


This Is Love

by Just_A_Simple_Writer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, BDSM, Blood, Bottom Sirius Black, Collars, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Sort Of, Top Remus Lupin, at least probably, but it's mentioned that it could become dub-con, idk - Freeform, or overtones, pure 'one day before the full moon' werewolf porn, they're both into it, this is like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 08:26:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20991845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_A_Simple_Writer/pseuds/Just_A_Simple_Writer
Summary: They have their rituals, and this is one of them.Alternatively: The author deals with writer's block by writing porn





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first time writing smut and i spent most of it staring at my screen like 'really? I'm doing this?'  
Enjoy
> 
> also they're in the same universe except i guess peter never betrayed them. becasue he was their friend and he deserved better. don't @ me. no one's dead and they're about 25

It’s the night before the full and Remus is avoiding Sirius.

Sirius knows why, of course. Remus is more wolf than human, tonight, and he’s afraid of himself. It’s Sirius’ job to alleviate that.

They do this every month. It’s sort of a ritual for them. Remus will disappear as soon as the sun goes down, citing a weak excuse about checking on the garden or finishing a new book, and he’ll hole himself up for hours, until the wolf wins and he goes looking for Sirius.

Sirius is not a patient man. He’s sitting in the kitchen, pretending to drink tea and listening out for any movement from Remus, who is locked in their bedroom.

Sirius looks at the clock for the hundredth time and sighs, tugging on the black studded dog collar that James got him as a joke, but that he unironically loves.

There’s the sound of a door opening from above him and he perks up, listening to the quiet footsteps head down the stairs and towards the kitchen.

Remus appears in the doorway a few moments later. There’s an empty cup in his hand, which Sirius suspects will be his excuse for coming down here.

Sirius leans against the counter, watches Remus drag his eyes over him. He isn’t wearing a shirt, because he’s learned from experience that it would only get torn and besides, the less clothing he’s wearing the faster Remus will give in.

“I was just…” Remus trails off and swallows, raises the cup in his hand.

Sirius smiles and nods like he understands.

Remus creeps further into the kitchen, approaching the dishwasher, trying not to look at Sirius and failing miserably.

Sirius can see the want in his eyes and he grins, tilting his head back to show off his neck, encircled with black leather.

That’s what does it. He hears the mug crash into the sink and only has a moment to wonder if it broke before Remus is in his lap, kissing and biting and tangling one hand in his hair, tugging hard enough to make Sirius’ eyes water.

Remus backs off a moment later, breathing heavily. One hand is still entangled in Sirius’ dark hair and his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide.

He hooks a finger in the silver ring of the collar and tugs Sirius to his feet.

Sirius doesn’t resist. They’ll be time for that later, time for teasing and protesting and driving Remus wild, but for now he follows willingly. They won’t make it to the bedroom if he doesn’t.

They barely make it as it is. Remus slams him against the door, hard enough that it will bruise in the morning, and kisses him, all teeth and tongue.

Sirius ducks past him and darts further into the room. It’s a way to tease, a way to rile Remus up. Sirius _will_ submit, but not yet.

He grins, still cocky. Remus is watching him from the doorway.

“Strip.” Remus growls, and he considers being awkward about it, but he’s already achingly hard, and he knows this will make things faster. It might mean his jeans survive, too.

He kicks them off, ditching them in a corner.

Remus snorts at his lack of underwear and Sirius grins cheekily.

He sprawls on the bed, spreading his legs slightly and watching Remus. He crosses the room, choosing his steps carefully. It’s slow and predatory and oh so hot.

They’ve long since passed the point of no return and Sirius doesn’t care, not when Remus is standing so close, pulling his sweater over his head and divulging himself of his awful grandpa trousers.

On another night Remus would be slower, make Sirius wait for it, but the wolf is not patient, and it’s the wolf, more than Remus himself, that wants this. Wants Sirius.

Sirius knows better than to try to help, just waits until Remus is beautifully, gloriously naked, until he crawls onto the bed and approaches Sirius, grinning wolfishly (Sirius laughs to himself at the comparison).

There’s very little foreplay. They’ve both been waiting all evening for this. Remus is too desperate to tease, too desperate to do anything apart from fuck into Sirius, hard and rough and punishing. He doesn’t even think about things like lube, or preparation, but Sirius was expecting him to forget, and has been more than ready for hours.

Still, it burns, and Sirius hisses, but Remus doesn’t let up, won’t let up until he’s exhausted them both.

It isn’t gentle. It’s never gentle. Sirius will wake up tomorrow with cuts and bruises and bites and scratches, but he doesn’t care.

Remus bites down on his shoulder, hard enough to draw blood, and Sirius cries out, coming hard for the first time in the evening.

Remus doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down, and Sirius wouldn’t expect him to. Sirius loves it, loves the roughness and the marks left on his skin, but ultimately it’s about Remus.

Sirius tries to move his arms. He doesn’t really want to do anything with them, but he knows what Remus will do.

Remus does, grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head, gripping hard enough to leave bruises.

Sirius already hurts all over, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He needs this, almost more than Remus does. He’s only young, but he’s already got too much on his shoulders, already thinks too much of himself and he needs someone to take control, needs to be forced into submission.

Remus drags his blunt nails down Sirius’ back and he arches off the bed, gasping. He’s always vocal, but more so on nights like this. It’s for Remus’ sake. He needs to be able to hear the reaction he elicits.

There’s blood running down his chest, and he comes again, only a few minutes after the first time.

He’s oversensitive now, and he can feel tears pooling in his eyes and slipping down his cheeks. It’s perfect, though. Remus drags his tongue over Sirius’ cheeks, tasting the salt.

Sirius is slowly slipping under, into an empty, euphoric state. It’s difficult to focus on anything but _Remus,_ Remus’ mouth on his throat, Remus’ voice growling in his ear.

It feels _safe_, although it shouldn’t.

Sirius loses track of time after that, loses track of anything that isn’t Remus. He thinks he comes twice, maybe three times more, and he’s sobbing, begging for less, for more, for anything Remus can give.

Remus doesn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, even if Sirius asked him to. Sirius shouldn’t like that, shouldn’t want that, but he does. Some nights he does beg for it to be over, but Remus never stops, and Sirius wouldn’t want him to. Not really.

He knows several silent, wandless spells he could use if he really, truly needed it to stop, but he never uses them, and never would.

Sirius tries to move his arms, tries to shift, although he doesn’t know where he’s shifting to, and Remus presses down, grips his wrists tighter. Sirius hears something crack, but he can’t feel it, and it doesn’t seem important.

He might have blacked out after that, because the next thing he knows Remus has pulled away completely, and is laying next to him on the bed, finally spent.

Sirius rolls over, ignoring his body complaining, and curls into Remus. They’re both filthy, but that’s a problem for later.

Remus pulls him closer, protectively, and they both fall asleep like that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aftercare is important, kiddos

When Sirius wakes up it’s to the familiar tingle of healing charms against his skin.

He’s a little disappointed, but only for a moment. He likes the marks, but he knows that there would be questions asked if he left them, and he wouldn’t want Remus to get into trouble.

He opens his eyes, squinting at the light pouring through the window.

“Morning, love.” Remus says softly, from somewhere to his left.

Sirius mumbles a greeting and sits up, looking over.

Remus is kneeling on the bed, his wand in his hand. He’s already healed a lot of the marks, Sirius can feel it, but he won’t be satisfied until Sirius’ pale skin is free of blemishes.

Remus is being very quiet, quieter than usual, and Sirius lets him heal a few more scratches before he brings it up.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

Remus sighs, sits back. “I broke your wrist, last night.”

Sirius vaguely remembers that, remembers it not being very important. He rotates both his wrists and finds them in perfect working order. “Seems okay to me.”

Remus flattens his mouth into a thin line. He’s clearly still unhappy about it. “I fixed it.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that I hurt you, Sirius.”

There’s no apology. There never is, no matter what happens, and Sirius likes it that way. The first few times they did this sort of thing Remus was almost inconsolable the next morning. Sirius slowly talked him out of it, convinced him that it was _good_, that he wanted it. So Remus had stopped apologising.

It didn’t mean that he didn’t still worry about it, though. It didn’t mean he didn’t care.

“Not in any way that won’t heal.” Sirius says, reaching out to put one hand on Remus’ face.

Remus closed his eyes for a second, leaned into the touch. “I know.”

“I love it.” Sirius promises. “I love _you_.”

“I’m dangerous.” Remus tells him.

Sirius shakes his head. He knows what Remus can do, knows full well what he’s capable of, but he has never been afraid of him. “No.” He says gently. “You’re not.”

Remus opens his mouth to protest, to say something about it, but Sirius cuts him off with a soft kiss. It’s quiet and chaste, but they both know what it means. It says _it’s okay_ and _I love you._

Remus stops after that, finishes healing Sirius and then runs them both a bath.

They’re both sitting in it, twenty minutes later, talking quietly about everything and nothing.

Sirius is leaning quietly against Remus’ chest, listening to him talk about his latest novel and letting the warm water wash away his aches.

This is good.

This is love.


End file.
